


Collared Serpent

by lola_lollipop_girl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (i think? crowleys wearing a collar which Could Be hardcore but like, Collars, Feeding Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Gaining, Other, also theres no punishment or anything like that so idk), ik thats a lot of kink stuff but trust me this is SoftTM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:33:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola_lollipop_girl/pseuds/lola_lollipop_girl
Summary: "Normally, Crowley would fire back with some snarky retort, but never during the collaring. In that moment, all he wanted was to be perfectly obedient. He wanted Aziraphale to give him a pleased, proud smile as he closed the collar around his throat, claiming him. He wanted to be good."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	Collared Serpent

**Author's Note:**

> This could be read as like a sequel/taking place in the same universe as "Soft Dom" but you definitely don't have to have read that one to know what's going on here, and honestly this one is more laid back!

Crowley knelt at Aziraphale’s feet, head lowered in blissful submission. He let himself smile, knowing Aziraphale could only see the top of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Aziraphale’s plump, elegant hands reaching toward his hair. His curls tumbled around his shoulders, almost the same length they had been back in Eden, the way Aziraphale liked them best. 

The angel gently tugged on a curl, then watched it corkscrew back into place with a look of utter adoration. “So beautiful,” he murmured. He kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are?” Crowley could hear the smile in Aziraphale’s voice, the angel’s warm laughter as he added, “But of course you do, conceited thing.”

  
Normally, Crowley would fire back with some snarky retort, but never during the collaring. In that moment, all he wanted was to be perfectly obedient. He wanted Aziraphale to give him a pleased, proud smile as he closed the collar around his throat, claiming him. He wanted to be _good_. 

Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Stay nice and still. There’s a dear.” He padded over to the bedside table. Crowley licked his lips in anticipation as Aziraphale opened the small black box containing his collars, and the angel smiled indulgently. “Patience, pet. I’ll only be a moment.” 

Crowley bit back a whine, though his eyes remained petulant. He tried to sit still as Aziraphale held up the collars one by one, as if seeing them for the first time. There was the simple leather collar Crowley had gotten himself, the one he had presented to Aziraphale when introducing him to the concept. He had deliberately chosen an inconspicuous one as not to frighten him off. With the way Crowley dressed, it would hardly even stand out if he wore it in public. 

The next collar was a little flashier, made of a deep red snakeskin. After a few months with the black collar, Aziraphale had suggested Crowley get another one. 

“This suits you perfectly, of course,” he had mused, stroking Crowley’s neck. “But it would be nice to have options. Imagine, each morning you could pick out whichever one you liked best.” 

“Or_ you_ could do it,” Crowley suggested, trying to keep his tone casual. It was hard to pretend he didn’t want every choice taken from him and put into Aziraphale’s caring, capable hands, but occasionally he could manage. “You know, a show of control, and all.” 

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, yes! I—I suppose. . .” He smiled a bit shyly. “I think I would rather like that, actually.”

Crowley’s unnecessary heart galloped. Usually, when Aziraphale did anything dominant, it was clear he was only making an attempt to humor Crowley. He didn’t really understand what Crowley enjoyed about it, but as long as the demon seemed happy, he did his best to play along. However, more and more often, there were moments when Aziraphale seemed to find genuine pleasure in the role, and Crowley loved him all the more for it. 

Aziraphale held up a third collar with a mischievous smile. “Now, this would look lovely on you,” he said, his voice full of barely restrained laughter. He put on a mock-surprised expression in response to Crowley’s death glare. “Oh, you don’t like it? Whyever not?” 

Crowley took the question as an invitation to speak. “It’s_ tartan_.” 

The collar, which was indeed patterned in black and red tartan, was Crowley’s own fault for telling Aziraphale about April Fool’s Day. The angel hadn’t made him wear it in public yet, though he had threatened to as punishment in the past. 

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “Absolutely no accounting for taste. This is why I make all the decisions,” he said, pausing to meet Crowley’s eyes to make sure he wasn’t pushing too far. Crowley tilted his head as if to say, _go on_. Aziraphale swallowed. “Clearly, you can’t be trusted to do it yourself. You need me to do everything for you, you— you helpless creature.” 

  
Crowley lowered his gaze as if ashamed, though he struggled to keep his repentant expression from breaking into a smile. _Damn right_, he thought. For all his hesitation, Aziraphale could be_ very _good at this when he wanted to be. 

“I should make you wear this,” said Aziraphale, holding up the collar. “Just to prove that I can. You _are _mine, after all, and I—” His eyes darted around and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I can— I can make you do anything I please.” He clasped his hands nervously, waiting for Crowley’s response. 

If Crowley wasn’t already on his knees, he would have sunk to the floor. As it was, Crowley was surprised he managed not to collapse into a boneless heap. He wanted to slither over to the angel on his belly and cling to him, but, no, Aziraphale had told him to stay still. Crowley was determined to behave himself, if only to avoid the tartan collar.

Aziraphale put the tartan collar away. “Fortunately for you, I had something else in mind,” he said, smiling as he lifted the final collar out of the box.

Its design was deceptively simple— a thin, undecorated band, but it was golden, and it shone with an understated radiance about it that reminded Crowley of Aziraphale, and it was _heavy_. Crowley ached to feel the cool weight of it around his throat. It had been his favorite ever since Aziraphale had gotten it for him as an anniversary gift a few years ago. He stretched out his neck toward Aziraphale, and the angel laughed.

“Yes, dear, I know you like it,” Aziraphale leaned down to give Crowley a kiss on the forehead before clasping the collar in place. “It’s my favorite, too,” he said fondly. “It goes so well with your beautiful eyes.” Aziraphale looked sad for a moment. “I do wish you didn’t have to hide them away so often, but,” he added, a wicked spark lighting up his eyes. “It _does_ mean I get to keep them all to myself.” He kissed Crowley between the eyes, a bit more pressure behind his lips than usual. “These lovely eyes belong to me, as does every part of you.” 

Crowley pressed his lips together tightly to keep from moaning. He wanted Aziraphale to own every part of him, to claim his entire body with those hard kisses, with even harsher forms of touch. He wanted Aziraphale to kiss him raw, bite him until he bruised, mark him up from head to toe— 

Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head, gentler this time. “Such a dear you are, Crowley. How good of you to sit nice and still for me, my sweet, obedient little serpent.” Another kiss. Aziraphale gazed down at Crowley with eyes so full of love they hurt to look at. “Would you like to be held, my love?” Crowley fell into Aziraphale’s arms and was immediately engulfed in pure, comforting warmth as the angel cuddled him. “Oh, _very_ good, dearest.” 

Crowley nuzzled closer to his angel. As much as he wanted to be roughed up, it was impossible to be upset by Aziraphale’s natural gentleness. He still felt claimed, protected, loved. . .

Aziraphale’s hand coasted down Crowley’s back and the angel let out a small hum of satisfaction. “Your spine doesn’t stick out nearly as much as it used to, dear.” He patted Crowley’s belly. “You’ve put on weight, haven’t you?” 

  
Crowley smirked. “’S all your fault, always dragging me off to dinner and things. Keeping all those sweets around.” 

Aziraphale huffed, pretending to be upset. “Well, I’m not the one who crams it all into your greedy gut, now am I?” He rubbed Crowley’s belly; even empty, it rounded out from the rest of his relatively slim frame. Unlike Aziraphale, who was plump all over, Crowley’s added weight seemed to concentrate in his stomach, making him look like a stuffed snake who had just gorged itself on a meal. “I think it’s charming, really,” said Aziraphale, all traces of faux-irritation falling away as his own sweetness came shining through. “You deserve to be nice and soft, too.” 

  
Crowley’s face burned. Really, that was what had made him want to start gaining weight in the first place— how much he admired Aziraphale. He loved everything about Aziraphale, and he especially loved the way he _ate_. It was completely unnecessary for an angel, but he indulged himself anyway and enjoyed every moment. It was deliciously hedonistic. Crowley loved that Aziraphale wasn’t afraid to treat himself, to take pleasure in things, and that his corporation was round and soft all over. 

Every time Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s round belly, or his plush thighs, or his adorable squishy face, with its plump cheeks and double chin, he saw centuries of pampering, and indulgence, and self-love. Crowley wanted to make him even softer. He wanted Aziraphale’s generous waistline to get wider as the result of expensive dinners at the finest restaurants, for his full cheeks to round out in a smile when Crowley surprised him with a mug of cocoa and some of those shortbread biscuits he loved. He wanted to dote on his fat, beautiful angel until the end of time. 

But, deep down, Crowley wanted to be doted on, too. Some days, he would stare at his corporation in the mirror, the thing he generally thought of as little more than a vessel for fashionable clothes and snark, and wonder what it would look like if Aziraphale fed him. His corporation was so bony, so angular, something Aziraphale never passed up a chance to jokingly grumble about while they were snuggling. If he was a bit softer, Aziraphale would be much more comfortable. . .  


But Aziraphale _deserved _to be fed and admired. He was perfect. He was kind, and intelligent, and so endlessly loveable. . . he wasn’t fallen. He wasn’t a worthless snake. 

That was all in the past. Aziraphale loved Crowley, even the parts that were specifically designed to make him repulsive, lesser. He loved Crowley’s eyes, golden and gleaming, and never asked him to hide them away. He loved the little patches of black scales Crowley had on his back, his shoulders, his feet, and was especially fond of the red scales on his belly. He loved the dark wings Crowley always kept immaculately groomed and said they made him feel safe. Aziraphale loved Crowley, and he loved to take care of him every way he could, including keeping him well-fed. 

Aziraphale slipped a hand beneath Crowley’s pajama shirt and started gently rubbing a patch of scales along his lower belly. “I’ll be sure to take you out for a nice, big breakfast when we’re done getting ready.” He beamed. “Would you like that, my dear?” 

Crowley was too flustered to manage actual words. “Mm— mmhm.”

“Very well, darling.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a kiss on the nose, then smiled. “Let’s get you dressed, then.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Listen,,,,,,,, Crowley wearing a collar is just Too Good to not be a thing and I have so many feelings about aziraphale/crowley mutual gaining,,,,, my idiot heart is just a heap of kinky mush at this point Im so sorry oof


End file.
